Fearless Like Us (Like Us 9)

I just want to turn off my brain and feel.

“Ladies first, Lady Meadows,” Akara says, not the first time he’s called me Lady Meadows either.

“I’m not a proper lady,” I remind him, grabbing the bottle.

“Yeah, you’re 100% improper.” Akara smiles into a swig. “And I love my improper lady.”

My heart expands. I’m so in love with Kits, too. I touch my fingers to my smile.

Concentrate, Sulli.

This could just be their winning tactic. Distract me and take the fucking prize.

Not today.

The prize is fucking mine. I want the bragging rights. Always.

“Wait before you spin,” Akara says, then snags a hardback off my nightstand.

The only book I’ve actually read more than once. Tobias Kingly: Gold under Water.

He fits the biography under the beer bottle. “It’ll be easier to spin on this.” He flips the cover to the backside, hiding Kingly mid-swim with goggles and swim cap. “So I won’t punch his face.”

I make a noise. “His face isn’t punchable—he’s fucking legendary, Kits.”

“He’s an ass.”

“You’re an ass.”

“I’m a likable ass,” Akara refutes. “There’s a difference.”

Yeah, yeah.

Banks looks lost. “Am I supposed to know who the fuck this guy is?”

I readily explain, “Kingly is only the best swimmer of our generation—”

“Sulli has a crush on him,” Akara tells Banks before I can list off all of Kingly’s swim records and Olympic golds. “She practically drooled all over Kingly when he signed her book.”

“I didn’t drool,” I refute, face flaming at the way Banks is smiling at me. “I just said, thanks. He’s a swim god, Kits.”

“You’re a swim god, Sul. He should’ve been drooling all over you.” To Banks, he explains, “He’s too cocky.”

“Another cock,” Banks says like Kingly is on his hit list.

“No,” I shake my head profusely, “no, he’s not a cock. He’s fucking cool. Kits is cockier than Kingly.”

“No, I’m moderately cocky. Kingly is a chump. You can do better.” He puts a hand to his mouth, feigning shock. “Wait, you already did.” His smile is making me smile.

We’re all grinning, and that’s the best place to leave the talk of one of my idols.

Bottle on the book, I give it a good spin. We watch the bottle rotate quickly before slowing down. The neck of the bottle is pointing to…

Banks laughs. “Right down the middle.”

I grip my knees, then bite the corner of my lip. “Should I…spin again? Or should I just kiss both of you?”

They look at each other.

“Both,” I say, before they can decide between each other. I like when they both win anyway. I crawl closer to Akara, my knee knocking the bottle off Kingly’s biography. I’m too fast for Akara to savor my prowl towards him. Just as quick, I place a peck on his cheek. In another second, I place a soft kiss on Banks’ right cheek.

I fall back onto my bottom.

“That’s not the kind of spin the bottle I was imagining,” Banks says with a soft smile.

“Me neither,” Akara says to him. “Should we tell her?”

“No, let’s see how long this plays out.” Banks smiles wider.

I flush. “Hardy har-har. I know spin the bottle is a lot hotter than that. But I’m working up to it.”

“We need to help her out of the Kindergarten league,” Akara says to Banks, then gives me a sexy smile as he tips beer back. They drink me in like I’m unequivocally attractive, like they’re imagining more than their lips on me. Every time Banks’ gaze roams over my nipples, I squirm.

Dirty games like spin the bottle aren’t in my repertoire, but their confidence is wrapping around my inexperience in the most sensual way possible.

These are the men who took your virginity, Sulli.

I want them to show me more. What feels good. To go on greater, deeper explorations of bodies and heart.

On the nightstand near Akara, the clock glows a meaningless number. It’s late-late. Like the kind of late where we’re definitely well into the next day but it’s still pitch-black outside. Time and sleep are two mega-assholes I don’t love. So I’m ignoring both.

“Akara, you next,” I say.

He places the bottle back on the book, then spins.

It lands…

On me.

Anticipation and excitement swarm my stomach. He leans forward on his knees, and his hand effortlessly goes to the back of my head. Fingers threading my long hair. Lips an inch from mine as my pulse ascends.

And then he detours to the left, his lips brushing my ear. He whispers, “You want to be worked up to it, Sul.” He kisses my earlobe in a featherlight touch. Shivers trickle down my neck.

Just like that, he returns to his spot against the headboard.

I’m utterly fucking breathless. And his mouth never even touched mine.

“That was hot,” I say, smokiness to my voice that I can’t extinguish.

Banks rests his forearm on his knee, lips rising. “Ear kisses turn the mermaid on. Noted.”

“Ear kisses from me,” Akara clarifies.